Kisses From Heaven Read Online Free Page B

so…virile…
    “Loren,” he said gently, “take off your coat.”
    He pulled the kettle from the offending stove, the noise ceasing immediately. She looked down at herself with a flush and started unbuttoning, but then stopped as she remembered the casserole and put it in the oven.
    So take off your coat, she told herself. What is wrong with you? But she knew what was wrong. It was the powder-blue sweater and skirt, which clung like sin to the slim curves of her hips and showed off a frankly sensational pair of legs. The outfit had rated her a dozen catcalls in the plant all day—which had made her laugh. This man made her feel differently… Why should the thought that he might find her diminutive figure to his liking disturb her so? Obviously, she was suffering a momentary bout of insanity.
    She came back from putting away her coat without looking at him, poured the coffee into mugs and transferred them to the table.
    “Your hands are shaking. How often does that happen—the scene in the bar?”
    Her chin lifted. “I manage.” She didn’t add that she’d had enough questions from a man whom she’d met in a derelict saloon, or that she was furious that he’d noticed her trembling hands. Well, that bar was shudder material; it inevitably caught up with her.
    Buck sipped his coffee standing, glancing out at the yard and around the room. “You want me to look at your hot-water heater?”
    “Pardon? Oh, no, of course not. I can man—”
    It didn’t seem wise to finish as she caught those eyes fixed on her like dark jade. She could have sworn she heard a low warning growl in his throat. “I know. You can manage, ” he bit off. “In the meantime, you’re going to sit down and put your feet up and do absolutely nothing for a few minutes while I go down to the basement and look at that heater. Aren’t you?”
    “I—Yes.” Evidently. She sat absolutely still for several minutes, staring at the open basement door through which he’d disappeared. One would almost think he was genuinely concerned about her, when of course there was no reason to be. Or perhaps he just had a fetish about hot-water heaters?
    “I closed the door to Joan’s room,” he said blandly when he came back up. “Told her to take the evening off. The hot-water heater needs a new coil; it’ll have to wait until morning.” He held up a sort of coiled rectangle, corroded with white limey deposits.
    She resisted the urge to tell him that if he were five feet one inch and ninety-nine pounds he, too, might have invented some protection. Instead, she said pleasantly, “Good. Joan’s overworked.”
    “I’ll just bet she is,” he agreed. “This is too big a house for one person to take care of.”
    And if he weren’t so big, she’d hit him. She was about to say that she managed very well, but decided against it. He smiled approvingly, as if he’d read her mind.
    Angela strolled in as Loren was serving dinner for herself and Buck. In a brilliant red peasant blouse and skin-tight black pants, she looked ready to seduce from a street corner. Her blond hair cascaded to her shoulders in waves as she pirouetted prettily. “Like the blouse?” she asked, seemingly to both of them at once.
    Loren studied her sister. Angela wasn’t beautiful, but without question she exuded a special brand of sensuality. A dangerous brand. Loren worried about her sister on an every-five-minute basis, but her tactfully phrased admonitions only seemed to fuel Angela’s rebellion. At any rate, this evening was hardly the time for another lecture. “It’s new, isn’t it? Where are you going, honey?” she asked.
    “Just to a movie. What do you think?” she asked Buck.
    “That depends on whether you like your David or are just going out with him to attract other men,” Buck answered smoothly.
    “Pardon?” Used to immediate and unqualified approval from all males, Angela suddenly looked the very young woman she was.
    “It’s a lovely blouse,” Buck